Author Archives: sophie

Dressed to impress

by . Posted on
03 Sep

Well, even the best laid plans . . .

I don’t know quite what happened with Ged’s week off. I know one day I spent being Trinny and Tranny in Port Macquarie, upgrading and updating his wardrobe (which has improved his sartorial elegance but has done sweet FA for the house!) And we ordered lots of things to help the house on its way and I know that the new washing machine is now installed in the laundry and today the taps have been relocated by the plumber and the gorgeous tallowood work surfaces have been ‘dressed’ (Trinny and Tranny all round!) And . . . the falling down awning to the side of the garage has been removed (finally!) and George has been behind the shed with the tractor and made a lovely space for my one day chook run. And the orange tree has had a very dramatic haircut so Tinkerbell and Baby have been having a feast . . . but there’s no one thing finished in the house for me to tick the box and say ‘done’.

Either someone up there is trying to teach me patience, or sorely trying my patience!!

George pushed all the pebbles back up to the bridge on Sunday so I was at last free to leave. When I did finally go off the property it was a strange experience – liberating, exhilarating and kind of scary! Fascinating to see the havoc the water had wrought with all the crossings and bridges and see just how many people, like me, were river or creek bound for the duration. The best thing is that the solar system held up through all that drear, grey week of rain with not even a murmur which was brilliant, even if the sun wasn’t!

Having escaped the truly horrible (and sometimes fatal) flu that had been doing the rounds and that Ged was bed-bound for a week with, I was headachey and nauseous all week but I put it down to sunstroke, PMT or dehydration and soldiered on until mid-week when I spent the night wedded to the WC as my father so eloquently puts it ‘s****ing through the eye of a needle!’ I had a raging temperature and spent the whole of the following day (which was boiling hot) shivering under the doona while all sorts of workmen hammered and tractored and sawed outside. Or maybe that was just what it felt like in my head . . . .

Actually I was dragged out of bed by George early in the day to go over to his place and meet the Fire Brigade to get my Fire Permit now that the ban has been brought in early. I can’t say I was looking my best for such an occasion, and luckily while I looked like death, they were no pin-up boys either, so I didn’t miss a perfect opportunity there . . .

I was all better by the next day and had to go forth and forage for food in the shops to fill the void and found some gorgeous local natural yoghurt – there are some really amazing locally grown and made natural products up here which inspire me to cook for my workers. I have also just discovered Kipfler (??) little sort of long potato things – divine. Highly recommend my sweet potato curry . . . .!

On Saturday we headed down to the Central Coast to go to my old hairdresser’s 40th which was a big Yugoslav family affair in truly the naffest house you could even begin to imagine – huge mock tudor baronial/aussie macmansion. It was ‘gangsters and molls’ so I wore a great beaded dress which Mel sent over (and will unlikely be getting back!) and slicked my hair back with kiss curls on my cheeks. It was all a mad rush, especially since I was determined to trim the horse’s feet before we left. So we raced into Port to get shoes for my outfit, socks for Ged’s, present for the birthday boy etc., and then I was sewing buttons and headbands in the car on the way! But it was fun to see them and some people I hadn’t seen for ten years and to have a good boogie. On Sunday we went to meet some of his oldest friends and had a look at where he had grown up – lovely acreage at Terrigal where his big family roamed the countryside on horseback and listened to the bell birds in the bush. It was nice to get out on the water in the speed boat but I wasn’t game to ski – too bloody cold for me!!

Then home and the warm glow of a good day’s burning – George has been a busy boy and done a great job. and he tells me that his daughter gave him a huge amount of home cooked food when she saw him at Church on Saturday – so she was obviously guilt ridden into action after he told her I was cooking for him – great! I can rest in peace then . . .


THE MAGICAL ANGLE CREEK

The First Flood

by . Posted on
27 Aug

The first flood!

First it spitter spattered, and then it poured . . . and poured . . . and poured! Monday night saw me hauling the water pump out of the path of the rising tide by car light as the deluge continued (amazing how much strength the fear of flood pumps to muscles more accustomed to mouse than manpower . . . )

By Tuesday I was completely marooned. Funny, I had always dreamed of living on an island, and now I do! The water came up somewhere between 9 and 10 feet overnight. We had about 6 inches of rain over three days across a wide catchment area and most of it ended up in my river! Even Angle Creek was a raging torrent so the only way out or in was to be winched across on the Flying Fox. I braved it on Wednesday when the water was much lower and Ged delivered necessary supplies from the supermarket and the mail (!) but other than that it was just me and the radio, a few paintbrushes, two cans of gloss and a helluva lot of woodwork!

I have been forced over to Radio National as I can’t seem to get the ABC here. I was very resistant at first but the quality, intelligence and relevance of the programmes have won my heart! Very often they are consumed with debate about complex spiritual or philosophical tussles and I love it! My other great love is Classic FM. We are so lucky here to have advertisement free Classical music which isn’t trying to explore the nether reaches of the Classical genre (Radio 3!) but is a good mix of all the greats with avant garde noise only occasionally!

I have also been re-reading Daddy’s book. I am ashamed to admit that ten years ago I had lent my personalised copy to an Aussie Army friend, who disappeared to Darwin with it, never to be seen or heard from again. So I have tracked down a copy courtesy of my trusty friend Google and have been taking advantage of the grey and gloomy skies to meander through his Tour. With the benefit of age, and one would hope a little wisdom, it sheds light not only on the man and his integrity, but the stress my parents were under through that halcyon summer of 1976, and how very alike father and daughter really are!

It seems that only the dates and the places and the people have changed, the conflicts continue somewhere, somehow, somewhy . . .

Last week when I was out and about in Wauchope and scanning the charity shops for a costume to wear to a ‘gangsters and molls’ 40th next weekend, I found a lovely pair of wing back chairs with matching sofa for $80 so I snapped them up and hustled them into Port and the upholsterer. Hopefully by Christmas I will have them home (will I have a home by then??)

Saturday saw Ged and myself barrow loading river rocks onto the end of the causeway to fill in the gouge left by the raging torrent, so he could get in (having recovered from this foul flu that has been doing the rounds, and killing more than it cured. . . ). Then we took his ‘n’ hers chainsaws over to ‘the other side’ so I could have a supervised lesson and we could cut some much needed firewood. Man, it’s heavy!! Then we sourced the spring that I was convinced was feeding my beautiful dam so that was very exciting and I now have plans for further dams in that area. Between George and Ged and their ongoing education of the female city slicker, I will become a farmer yet!

Sunday has been a full on day of activity as the linen cupboard was finished off with beading and its newly painted doors returned to it. The final touches making the pantry perfect, the new front door cut down to size ready for my painting and a huge number of tobacco trees and lantana pulled out of the Angle Creek Bridge area. Ged has taken the week off work to put some serious effort into making a difference here and at least I know that whatever I pay him is money well spent as he is even more of a perfectionist than any of the Mortons!

And I am the one exhorting less bloody perfection and more bloody speed!

The Rich Tapestry of Rural Life

by . Posted on
20 Aug
I have had this horrible cold which seems to be doing the rounds. I put mine down to the draughty floor and those freezing days and nights and the lack of insulation in the roof, rather than catching it, but I have been pretty miz (aka The Widow Cranky!) this week and had a couple of ‘home’ days. Monday I was burning up with fever and the urge for a big cleanup, so had a bonfire and set fire to my hair! Lordy, my eyelashes and fringe have only just recovered from when the gas hot water system exploded, and I had to go and singe away my crowning glory once more! I also got myself in a complete tangle trying to do everything myself, and being impatient and had to holler for help! I was moving a big pile of rusty old metal down to the tin skip (I was on a mission!) and managed a lot in the trailer but then had to do the bigger items one by one with the car and my trusty old tow rope (thank you Chichester Chandlery). I did the big iron bath ok but didn’t really think through the old farm thing with wheels (whoops!) Oh well, Ged to the rescue and no real harm done but I have to learn that there are some things I CAN’T do on my own and wait for someone to assist me!
I was also pulling up fireweed and pulling down a fence – it was a gorgeous day to be out and about and getting some annoying little tasks out of the way. Tuesday I was in the office all day and ploughing through work but after another night tossing and turning and having horrible nightmares I decided I was well and truly exhausted and needed a day in bed to try and shake this fluey cold thing off. There’s no rest for the wicked, though, and George turned up just after midday. Apparently one of the cows is dead in the river from ‘black leg’ and so he had to muster the herd into the yards and immunise them. He unloaded his patient grey mare from the back of the truck and rode down into the river bed to flush them out onto the flat. My two were more of a hindrance than a help, galloping around aimlessly and Tinkerbell bucking at all the excitement. I was driving the car to prevent the cows bolting up the gully so I didn’t get you a picture of George on his trusty steed, surrounded by his pack of proper working dogs, driving the mob towards me, but I did grab a quick pic after the work was done so you can see ‘the man from Ellenborough river’! for yourselves.

Man, cows are stupid creatures! My first experience of ‘cow work’ and we put them in the chute and crush ten at a time for George to stab them with the needle gun and they were jumping on top of each other and trying to turn around in the crush and I was sure one of them was going to break its neck! But they all survived and hopefully we won’t lose any more . . .

George will move the dead cow out of the river and take it up onto the high country and trap it for dingoes and I must get my tie rail in this week so I can start riding at last . . . I had the most alarming conversation with George the other day. Because he is a Seventh Day Adventist we have our vegetarianism in common so I said a while ago that I would cook up some extra for him and Marcia. Of course he protested but it’s no skin off my nose – I cook enough for the army anyway! So I gave him some of my famous chilli beans the other day and when he asked me what to do with them I said ‘add some water and simmer . . ‘ and he said ‘what’s simmer?’ so I explained . . . and when I gave him veggie curry this week he asked what to do with it, so I said the same and then suggested some rice to go with it . . . ‘I can only cook eggs and boil water’ he told me. My God, what have those two been surviving on for the four years since Marcia became ill?
My thermals have finally arrived from M&S just as spring awakens but I have to say I am loving being so snug and warm in my long johns and long sleeved vests – what is the slit at the front for???
Something strange is stirring in the heavens above and I can hear the patter of rain on the tin roof . . . thanks for your encouraging responses to ‘Mad Cow’ and it’s good to have this opportunity to log my misadventures and endeavours as well as the myriad people co-creating my dream. Last week my lovely Jehovah’s Witness neighbour, Chris Latimore, who has recently retired from running the sawmill on his property, delivered the wood he had kindly agreed to cut for my house. Beautiful Tallowood for the big upright beams and benchtops throughout, as well as hardwood beams and posts for the building work. Another neighbour who had heard me describe my dream and ‘got the picture’ and given me EXACTLY what I wanted and all done with true zen. He and his wife, Ruth, are very lovely gentle folk and it was a pleasure to do business with them and now to have the means to make my house dream come true (now for the builder to fall out of the sky . . . !)

GEORGE

Angle Creek and Cupboard Space

by . Posted on
13 Aug
George had always told me that where I could see the vertical rock overhang in the middle of the property that there was a beautiful oasis with wild orchids and I had put it on my ‘to be discovered one day’ list.  But because of the ceaseless search for the best place to site the Glockemann perpetual motion pump, I took it upon myself to walk up Angle Creek which bisects the property and look for the ideal combination of water drop, deep pool etc., etc.,  And I have found paradise.

Crystalline water rubbing the edges off the rock to reveal the iron ore within.  Pristine peace and rainforest and wild orchids everywhere you look.  This is a veritable oasis and shows me that I was so right to call the place Avalon – the red water is a constant, while the white which in times of rain will course to meet it, is currently dry.  For those of you not familiar with the red and white springs of Glastonbury and the ancient, mythical, isle of Avalon, I suggest a visit to http://www.chalicewell.org.uk/

So Ged (who is doing the install), Bill Peck (Mr Glockemann) and a local friend of his (Holger, who runs some sort of spiritual yoga retreat thing locally) and I all schlepped up the creek bed in various stages of awe and wonder.  Holger then emailed me and asked to explore its mysteries in solitude, in order to appreciate the energy of the place, to which I readily agreed.  I had always wondered what sort of landowner I would be – would I share as I expected others to share with me over the years (for my runs etc?) or would I become a miserly protectionist, toting my gun and ‘trespassers will be prosecuted’ signs and rubbing my hands and going ‘mine, all mine’ . . . and I feared the latter!  But the land is its own – not mine, not yours – it was here long before me and will be here long after we are all scattered to the four winds.  We are just custodians and can only nurture and tend, plant and protect for the mere minutes we are here to enjoy it.  And for me who finds God in nature’s daily miracles and peace in its stillness and constant change, it is wonderful to be able to share that with anyone who cares enough to look and listen and feel.

Spring is definitely in the air and whether it is that or the overwhelming feeling of happiness and gratitude for this beautiful place I experience on my daily runs, I have been doing handstands!!  But I am 30 or so years out of practice and landed in some strange way and hurt my big toe which was black and blue for most of the week.  So the lesson there is either that ladies of my advancing years should keep their feet firmly planted on the ground, or practice, practice, practice!!  I am sure you can imagine which method I will be adopting . . . .!!
Saw the first swallow of summer this week and the cherry trees are beginning to blossom so hopefully those deep frosts and bitter winds of winter are behind us and the ‘summer country’ can soon begin to bloom.
Ged and I made progress in the house at the weekend.  It seems I was stuck in the linen cupboard for two days!  We ripped out the shelves and I washed and painted coat after coat of my lovely ‘Clotted Cream’ over their previous ghastly pink, while Ged put up shelves in the pantry.  So one room is 99% finished (two more shelves to go in!).  Admittedly it is the smallest room in the house but it was the one I needed most so I can have some semblance of normality with food and some sacred, dust-free space for crockery, cutlery and utensils!  He has also put up all new shelves in the linen press so as soon as I have painted the doors, there’s another little clean storage area for me before the armies of mice devour all my belongings in the garage!

With the warmer weather the countryside has been ablaze . . . literally.  All the verges and vast acreages are being burnt off and as the rumours of an early start to the permit only season run rife, there is a frenzied rush to get in quick.  The air has been thick with smoke and the orange glows at sunset are not from light years away, but from nearby hillsides ablaze.  It has been beautiful and surreal.  And we haven’t finished burning our place yet!
THE SMALLEST ROOM IN THE HOUSE . . . .!!

Slash and Burn

by . Posted on
06 Aug

Well, I fired the builder.  Had to be done, really!  The previous week his children had been sick and then he had caught the bug so I didn’t see hide nor hair of him.  Monday he turned up looking for a cheque and on Tuesday he presented some very flimsy invoices to support his request for ‘more’.  I gave him a cheque but when he hadn’t turned up by lunchtime the following day with no call to explain why, I cancelled it.  And reconciled myself to the fact that he would have to go.

He was very sweet, and reasonable eye candy but I can watch Brad Pitt in Thelma & Louise for my jollies, and at least I KNOW he’s not going to renovate my house!!    Oh well, my intuition was way out on that one!  Or maybe I was right, and he would have done it, but it would have been like Waiting for Godot and we all know that I haven’t a patient bone in my body . . . .

Ged to the rescue again!  He used to be a builder so he is going to put his hands to good use and last weekend we got more done in two days than the builder had done in a month so things could be looking up!  OK it might only happen at weekends but at least I know that it will happen.

My life is beginning to feel like one of those commercials ‘it may not happen overnight, but it will happen’!

George is my saving grace!  He has burnt a break across the other side of the property so ‘on the next good hot day ‘ he can ‘set a match to it and get rid of all the bladey grass’.  Australian farmers make sense of the phrase ‘slash and burn’.  But George doesn’t know that my Natural Farming book says that burning destroys more nutrients than it puts back so while I agree that the years of neglect need to be burnt off, this may be the last year he gets to indulge his pyromania!

He has also been up on the ridge cutting down the wattles and lantana – silhouetted against a pristine sky – an Australian icon.  I am so privileged to have him to learn from and also to witness that rugged pioneering spirit.  His father was a pom so when we agree we have anything in common he says it’s the pom in us!  He is a master of bush craft and I am a willing disciple.  He makes me laugh but his story is a sad one.  His gorgeous wife who is a real looker with the kindest deep blue eyes, has Alzheimers and he will not give her up to care.  His work is his sanity and she is his one true love so it’s a hard row he hoes and he often needs just a little sympathetic hearing from an unconditional heart.

Now we are calling in George’s younger brother to do my post and rail fencing – just a bit at a time when I’m feeling flush!  I have been the painting queen all weekend, coat after coat over the vile lime green walls inside and pressure washing the outside and making a start on that.  I cleaned out the cattle yards, pulling up all the fireweed and mowing seven years of weeds.  George got me in the river to put a couple of wires across to stop the cattle – the river was the same temperature as the sea at West Wittering on Christmas Day in the UK.  I did two walks across (belly button high) and strung two wires and plunged straight into a boiling hot bath!  Freezing!  George and Marcia thought it was hilarious!  And now my water wading skills have been requested again for early Thursday morning for a repeat performance at the other end of the property.  I think I’ll go buy a boat!

Happy Horse Homecoming

by . Posted on
30 Jul
The horses came home!  Very sleek and slim and still in the head.  As if they’ve been off on a yoga and detox retreat for six weeks!  They couldn’t believe there was grass at the end of their stint of starvation so they were snatching every tuft as I walked them in from the Angle so as not to risk them or the truck on the rough road on the property.

My rushed endeavours to fence a paddock for them had backfired.  I had hired someone I didn’t like or trust to do a day’s fencing for me and he had done the most appalling job.  A blind, cack handed city slicker could have created something with more finesse.  So I tried diplomacy but he was an aggro little bush pig so in the end I had to give him the straight talking he could understand!  And I learned a good country lesson.  it’s better to wait for the experts however long it takes than to rush in and create a mess that has to be fixed later.

The horses didn’t like that paddock anyway so they have migrated up onto the House Ground and despite the complete lack of fences and the cattle wandering on, off and round, have made no attempt to stray further.

As I was walking the horses in and showing them their new home another truck with the roof insulation was trying to find us so I had to wade through the river and walk up the hill to try and track him down as I had left the car up on the ridge where I had met the horse truck.  Despite the driver’s insistence that he didn’t want to risk getting bogged on the property I thought I knew better . . . and sure enough he got stuck with no way forward and no way back on the damp red dirt on the other side of Hoppy’s Bridge (as we all call the cement causeway that John & Sally Hopkins put in ten years or so ago).  We were going nowhere fast until I remembered all the carpet we had ripped out of the house and drove round and retrieved it piece by piece (Lord, I really need a ute for the farm!).  Still, it took almost three hours to get him free, unload the insulation into the trailer and deliver it down to the house and into the garage and get him off again. Another big lesson – can’t bring a six wheeler with a lazy axle onto Avalon again!
Whoever thought that living in the country meant a quiet life??

The end to that extraordinary day was when I literally ran out of petrol halfway down the long thin river paddock!  Thank God for Ged (Mr Solar and a neighbour) who brought me fuel and is determined to be a knight in shining armour to this damsel in stress!

The Man from Ellenborough River

by . Posted on
22 Jul
There is light at the end of the tunnel!  Team solar turned up on Monday with the new hot water system. They dashed my hopes about hot water on Monday when they didn’t get the install finished but by Tuesday night I was luxuriating in a deep, hot bath (still green!).  Oh well, since the latest beauty fad for fashionistas in London is Nightingale poo face packs, I am sure that my green river water bath is actually very youthifying – although maybe not judging by the wrinkles my skin had acquired by the time I finally left my warm, wet paradise.

I still seem to be either shopping for renovation essentials or back in the Telstra vortex as I return their little wireless widget and while away the hours as they try and dream up new solutions for me.  Got a new lawnmower that is green, sturdy, fearless and invincible.  It’s true blue, dinky di – it’s a Victa and I have a feeling we are going to get along!

Went to see one of my neighbours who has a sawmill.  He has recently retired but agreed to cut the timber for the big beams and kitchen, laundry and bathroom surfaces for me.  He seems nice but boasts about how much water he uses to clean his teeth!  It is a sad fact that rural Australians who live on water and have unlimited access to it, waste it more than most!   They don’t have rainwater tanks, they don’t keep it, cherish it, store it, they just use it in the same way that city folk do . . . bizarre!

And the farm has come into its own this week with the arrival of 75 calfs to grow fat on the land.  Which brings me to George.  What a character!  George is 70 odd, he was ‘rared’ here (as the locals say).  He owned all this land – thousands of acres and George has sold it off bit by bit.  He’s a wiry, strong, lined and thin lipped Man from Snowy River type.  His Akubra is ancient, his RM’s battered and bruised and his horse’s bridle is more baling twine than leather.  He wields a chainsaw like a virtuoso violinist makes music with his bow.  His blue eyes can be steely or twinkle with humour.  He tells me he got in deep trouble with the drink and that’s when he found God and began to make sense of it all with the bible.  He’s a Seventh Day Adventist so he doesn’t drink or smoke or sin and he’s a vegetarian so we have something in common!  I tell him all my dreams for the place and he think them through.  He has his own clear picture in his head of what the land should be like and though he wouldnt even begin to know what I mean, his work is done with perfect zen.  The cattle are his and the deal is that he swaps the farm work for the agistment.  He’s a crafty old bugger – we always talked about 40 head and he turns up with 75 and a good story about how he always meant 40 mothers and calfs, so 75 little heifers is the same thing in principle . . . !!

Cold Comfort in the Country

by . Posted on
16 Jul
Nothing’s working!!  The mower had to go back because it was a wuss (as we say in Australia) a wimp and a limp excuse for a machine.  The phone felled itself for some unknown reason and even the washing machine is, literally, on the blink – it keeps shorting out.  And the gas hot water system that I had always had a funny feeling didn’t work, managed four whole days before it gasped its last and left me freezing, frustrated and floundering in the dark ages, boiling pans of water on the stove in order to shiver in 3 inches of lukewarm green river water in a cast iron bath!

I have lost my sense of humour completely!

And the builder turns up but what is he DOING under the house while I shiver in my single bed in this building site with big gaps in the floor where the cold winter winds whistle through?  Can’t he see that I don’t CARE about the bloody piers, I care about my own comfort and making a home that I can live, rather than camp in!

To add to my frustration I seem to have spent most of the week in the Telstra vortex – on hold ad nauseam while I battle valiantly to get some sort of broadband solution.  Lots of promises from call centre land, but they’ve probably never been out of Mumbai, and certainly never experienced the strange and scary Orwellian world of telecommunications in regional Australia.  I have become part of ‘the one percent’.  John Howard always talks about broadband solutons for 99% of the Australian population.  I’m the rest!

This week’s brave new frontier is wireless broadband.  Sounds good the way they talk the talk, but when it comes to walking the walk it transpires that it isn’t Mac compatible.  Back to the drawing board and the stove to keep boiling the water . . . .